Snowed by Pamela Burford

Author:Pamela Burford
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: witty, blizzard, photographer, adult romance, Stranded, secret, long island, Romance, snowed in, new york, sexy contemporary romance, mansion, arkansas, sexy romance, gold coast, Contemporary Romance, rita award
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Leah stood in the bathroom doorway and watched an oblivious James lounging in the huge claw-footed bathtub, arms draped over the sides, eyes closed. Steam rose off the water. Her eager gaze lingered on his naked body. David in Repose. Taking a deep breath, she padded shoeless toward the tub.

He lurched upright with a satisfying gasp when she stepped into the tub, fully clothed. “Hello, James.” As water sloshed onto the floor, she settled herself comfortably at the opposite end, facing him. “I still like it when you’re speechless.”

Slowly he sat back, the hint of a smile lighting his eyes and tilting one corner of his wide mouth. “You seem to be the only person with the ability to do that to me.”

“I shall use my power wisely, O Wet One.”

“What about your flight?”

“There’ll be another one.” Leah poked at the air bubbles trapped under her dress, watching them blorp to the surface of the deep, warm water. She leaned back and stretched out her legs to one side of his long body, wriggling to avoid the faucets.

He started to stroke her leg, and grimaced on encountering her tights. Lifting her foot out of the water, he got a good grip on the material covering her toes. And pulled. She chuckled as the tube of stretchy cloth lengthened between her foot and his fingers, with no discernible effect on her state of dress. He scowled and wrapped the material around his palm. “It was a sad day when women gave up garter belts and silk stockings.” He gave a mighty two-fisted yank. Laughing, she had to grab the sides of the tub to keep from being pulled under. Finally, with a frustrated growl, he unceremoniously reached under her dress to her waist. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

“Don’t let Stieglitz hear you say that.”

He made short work of her tights, which landed on the bathroom floor with a resounding splat. She found her bare legs nestled intimately against his hip under the water. The delicious sensation held the promise of what was to come.

He said, “I’m afraid to ask how you got back into the house.”

“I’d forgotten to return the mudroom key. It was still in my coat pocket.” She squirmed as her shoulder brushed the faucet.

James leaned forward to pull her to his end of the tub, snuggling her next to him, their legs entwined. His hand found the softness of her breast through the sodden fabric of her dress and bra, and her breathing quickened. He said, “I feel compelled to warn you, I tend to jump to conclusions whenever a beautiful woman deposits herself in my bathtub.” She opened her mouth to speak, and he put a restraining finger on her lips. “One word about figurative speech and I wash your mouth out with soap.”

“If you were to use Stieglitz’s method, I might not mind the punishment.” When he frowned in perplexity, she demonstrated, running the tip of her tongue along his lips.

A low purring noise arose from deep in his chest, and his arms tightened around her.

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